


Cassiopeia

by Dr_Mini_Me



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Extremis, F/M, Light BDSM, Possessive Thor (Marvel), Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-23 03:01:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13180998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Mini_Me/pseuds/Dr_Mini_Me
Summary: "Two seconds at a time. You do that for a few minutes and it seems like you've had all the time in the world. What a luxury that is, right?" Cassandra Piety died in 2009, so why is there a girl that seems to be made of fire with the same face and name as her? How'd she attract the attention of SHIELD and Asgard's Odinson? (Thor/OC, soulmate fic, no Jane.)





	1. Origins

Cover Art:

 

* * *

 

I think I'd heard of soulmates before meeting my end, it was something that my mom and dad always joked about. Laura and Matt Piety, thats who I was born too. They said they were meant to be, that they were  _always_  meant to be.

Thats whats kind of funny about that idea, the idea that my parents were soulmates. I almost believed it. They had a matching freckle on their chests, just a little dot. An imperfection in their skin that connected them together for life.

Even for a life after each other, they had that freckle to remind them.

I stopped believing in soulmates after the divorce papers were signed. We all liked who we liked and when we stopped liking them, that was that. You had to move on. You couldn't keep calling your ex-husband even though it was supposed to be his weekend. That personal, romantic, and emotional connection is over as soon as you make sure it's over.

Though I guess that everlasting connection turned out to be me, a kid pretty much makes sure that theres always going to be a string attaching you and the other person together forever.

Brown eyes and nearly invisible cheek bones told people a story about my mother's soft face while my curly but frizzed blonde hair told people about how bad my dad's hair was as a teen. A child that was made up of two people that were seen in equal amounts in her face, body, and personality.

Life moves on though, with or without you. Mine moved on in a thundering roar, something that couldn't and wouldn't be stopped. No matter how much I tried to stop it.

Walking home by yourself in the dark isn't always a great plan, even when you're 22. That decision to walk home after a night of clubbing kinda threw my life into a ringer that I'd just never seemed to find my way out of. Life bitch-slapped me so hard that night that I practically lost 2 teeth and got a nice little shiner to remember the moment by.

I don't remember much  _but_  I can remember the date clearly. July 17th, 2009. Houston, Texas. It was muggy that night, and pretty foggy thanks to the rain today. But it was that weird fog that didn't hang low, just right in the middle at your waist. It didn't move when I walked through it to go home and I was sure that made shit hard to see as a driver.

Something in my senses told me to stop, maybe its the animal instincts but I felt like I needed to stop and take a note of my surroundings because something was going to happen. Something big. I don't remember much after that, I can't even recall where I lived back then.

I know I heard a few sharp pops and the screeching of tires. A car? I think a car hit me. I could hear that sound of glass shattering so clearly despite the drunken haze and how much my bones didn't feel right as I seemed to almost fly through the air and hit a light-post. My head made a nice DING as I bounced from it.

This was weird. I struggled to stand and I groaned for a while on the floor. It felt wet down here though. I needed to get up but everything spun too quickly for me to do so. I  _have_  to get up. I remember rolling to the side and seeing black boots. That was all I noticed. Black boots and gloved hands. They carried me away from there.

Honestly, I don't know what happened after that. I know I woke up in a hospital bed of sorts, wind blowing over my face as people yelled things about a head injury, cracked ribs, broken arm, blood-loss. The lights were even spaced above me, I watched them pass over my face every 2 seconds. That was how I counted how much longer I had to live.

Two seconds at a time. You do that for a few minutes and it seems like you've had all the time in the world.

What a luxury that is, right?

* * *

When I woke up after the hospital, I still wasn't ready. I think that was my main issue with taking in what people told me was called the Extremis Virus. I wasn't ready to let go of this life. I'd just finished college, I wanted to go into a career with something humanitarian. _USAID_ , or  _Habitat for Humanity_ , something to help people. I'd applied for a graduate program in Art history, I wasn't ready to die.

I had plans. Plans of things to do, I wanted to get a dog in a month or two. I wanted to travel to Europe. I wanted to go to a bar and dance on top of the tables. I wanted to be a kid again and watch cartoons.

"Why?!" I remember screaming at the men and women in white coats after they'd shot me up with whatever was in the black little tubes. The people in black simply stared at me, a glance that meant I wasn't getting help so why did I continue to scream? I never wanted to be a weapon. I wasn't a domestic terrorist, I swear.

"Omi-god." I know I gasped a few times when I found that I really couldn't move. I kept wondering where I was and how I got there. Why was I there?

"Subject 46's former genetic code is expelled, orally." A female called it out as I spat blood over my cheeks. I didn't want to be strapped down to a table, just to cough more and more blood until these little robots had made me perfect. I was freaking out.

People around me were comatose, completely uninterested in my drunken screams and my pleas. There were a few person-sized cocoons near me, beige but plastic looking. Things weren't making sense. How much had I drank tonight? Was it still night? Where am I?

"Wh-whats..." I couldn't form words anymore. It felt like my mouth had fallen asleep despite the jerks of my limbs thanks to some kind of electrical shock. I felt sleepy now. Sleepy enough to just lay my head down and let this go. I fought the feeling, scanning the concrete room with metal grates for flooring.

"Subject 46's beat is down to 45 beats a minute." Another lab coat called out to no one. I wondered if this was a prison? Was I in a hospital basement? It was disorienting. My head was slipping to the side, I couldn't keep it up right anymore. I can't control myself anymore but I didn't feel my arms or my legs. Were they gone?

My head wilted over to the side like a dead tree branch, it hit the side of my restraints with a light ding. I blinked blearily, I can't do this.

When my eyes shut is when I recalled thinking, 'I can't win this'.

 


	2. Day 2

When I woke up after the hospital, I still wasn't ready. I think that was my main issue with taking in what people told me was called the Extremis Virus. I wasn't ready to let go of this life. I'd just finished college, I wanted to go into a career with something humanitarian. _USAID_ , or  _Habitat for Humanity_ , something to help people. I'd applied for a graduate program in Art history, I wasn't ready to die.

I had plans. Plans of things to do, I wanted to get a dog in a month or two. I wanted to travel to Europe. I wanted to go to a bar and dance on top of the tables. I wanted to be a kid again and watch cartoons.

"Why?!" I remember screaming at the men and women in white coats after they'd shot me up with whatever was in the black little tubes. The people in black simply stared at me, a glance that meant I wasn't getting help so why did I continue to scream? I never wanted to be a weapon. I wasn't a domestic terrorist, I swear.

"Omi-god." I know I gasped a few times when I found that I really couldn't move. I kept wondering where I was and how I got there. Why was I there?

"Subject 46's former genetic code is expelled, orally." A female called it out as I spat blood over my cheeks. I didn't want to be strapped down to a table, just to cough more and more blood until these little robots had made me perfect. I was freaking out.

People around me were comatose, completely uninterested in my drunken screams and my pleas. There were a few person-sized cocoons near me, beige but plastic looking. Things weren't making sense. How much had I drank tonight? Was it still night? Where am I?

"Wh-whats..." I couldn't form words anymore. It felt like my mouth had fallen asleep despite the jerks of my limbs thanks to some kind of electrical shock. I felt sleepy now. Sleepy enough to just lay my head down and let this go. I fought the feeling, scanning the concrete room with metal grates for flooring.

"Subject 46's beat is down to 45 beats a minute." Another lab coat called out to no one. I wondered if this was a prison? Was I in a hospital basement? It was disorienting. My head was slipping to the side, I couldn't keep it up right anymore. I can't control myself anymore but I didn't feel my arms or my legs. Were they gone?

My head wilted over to the side like a dead tree branch, it hit the side of my restraints with a light ding. I blinked blearily, I can't do this.

When my eyes shut is when I recalled thinking, 'I can't win this'.

* * *

"Subject 46? Do you copy?" I stared in a daze through a shell over my face as I was brought back from my past life's memories. I could tell there were wires and tubes in here with me but there were voices and light outside of this thing.

"Subject 46. Do. You. Copy?!" The voice sounded much more grumpy now, I wasn't sure how to speak at this point. My throat felt dry and my torso felt exposed, the combination of the two led to me to confusion and a frozen open mouth.

"Break her out of there." It was a man, a gruff one at that. I furrowed my brows and snapped my mouth shut as a point knife stabbed through the shell, hitting my bare chest. Holy shit, I just got stabbed.

"..." A soundless squeal erupted from my throat as I stared down my nose at the exposed metal in me. Fear pumped through me, filling me with adreanaline as I shoved as hard as I could at the area the blade had broken through. The shell shattered in an explosion of shards, glittering as they fell to the grates below me.

"WE'VE GOT A LIVE ONE." I could hear another man yell in a breathy huff into his radio, maybe he was whispering. Everything sounded loud, I could hear 6 different sets of breathing, 6 different heartbeats at various paces.

I stared in terror at the man in front of me as he stumbled back, hitting another human-sized shell behind him that was the same material as mine. My arms were still raised but they glowed in the florescent lights.

The man had regained his balance and came closer, I shoved him again but this time I heard a low sizzle and a sharp expletive. "Shit!"

To my left I spotted a door, it was metallic but I was determined as I took off and pushed at it as hard as I possibly could. To my surprise and the two men behind it, the door crumbled like aluminum foil in the microwave. I didn't look back as I heard the familiar sound of bones crunching behind me. I didn't know where I was but if everything was as fragile as that door, I could get out of here in a jiffy!

Another door crumbled and I felt like I was on a roll, I didn't hurt anymore. I was fast, everything passed me in a blur as I searched my way through the corridors and weaving alleys. Freedom was close.

I made a bit of a miscalculation and ran into a solid wall instead of the door across from it in a hairpin turn. That definitely hurt a little and I started coughing from the dust rushing up into my nostrils and eyes. The sound of feet hitting the ground in rapid succession reached my ears, startling me out of the dusty haze I'd created. Fuck it. This was a door now and I was going through it until I found a window.

Two more doors and I was at a set of stairs. It took me maybe two seconds before I'd gotten up the set of stairs and had turned the corner to find a female in a lab-coat. She looked just as afraid as I did. My head jerked to the side as I heard yelling coming closer and realised I had to make a snap decision to either push past her or use her as leverage.

I pushed past her and cut another sharp right down another hallway, I just didn't have it in me to harm her without a reason to. It seemed like this was actually an office building of sorts as I passed open doors with modern and sleek looking offices. I came to a sharp stop as I spotted a window in an occupied office.

I made eye-contact with the man in the office who appeared to have been eating his lunch. Lettuce slipped out of his mouth as he scanned my person up and down. I looked down and noticed the black rubber handle of the blade was still buried in my chest...and I was nude. Terrific. I don't know how I hadn't noticed either thing when I took off a few minutes ago.

I went to take a step forwards when a sharp pain went through my arm, forcing me to the left. "Fuck." I hissed as I looked down at my arm to find a hole in it.

I looked back up at the bald man who gave me a small smile as he raised his weapon again, firing maybe 10 more shots into my side. The force knocked me onto the floor as I flinched, this hurt. A lot. I tried to pick myself back up again onto my elbows when a boot pushed down squarely between my shoulders, forcing me to the floor.

"Lets get you back downstairs, eh?" A slow drawl spoke above me as the boot moved from my back. I was picked up roughly by the waist and tossed over a shoulder clothed in some kind of black nylon.

I wanted to scream and I wanted to shout but I couldn't actually breath, every breath felt wet. So. I just stared at the ground I'd covered and the men behind him while little silver casings dropped from my body to the carpeted hallway behind me. What fresh hell is this?

* * *

"Get dressed." The same bald man that had shot me was now standing in front of me as he eyed me with disillusionment. I'd been thrown to the floor and handed clothing to wear. It was the same sort of clothing that he had. I stared at him for maybe a minute as I realised that his face was glowing, his eyes weren't really any shade of brown. Rather, his eyes were red like two rings of fire in his skull.

"Do I look like that?" My voice surprised me, I figured I'd lost it thanks to the lung punctures but apparently those were fine to heal themselves. Who knew, right? I waved a hand around my eyes, staring back up into his.

"Yeah." He raised a brow, not looking all that excited about my curiosity as he pointed to our right. I looked to the right to find a mirror that reflected back me but...different. I was ashey looking but my eyes and extremities glowed a dark orange under skin, veins, and bone.

"Get dressed, 46." The bald man was gruff again, hauling me up to stand up on my own feet once more. I looked away from the mirror and back to the black clothes in my hands, nodding.

"Right." I whispered to myself as I unrolled the pants, a black tank top fell to the ground in front of me.

I slid on the pants and shirt in a few minutes under the mans watchful eyes. I figured I should feel self-conscious but I didn't. I wasn't sure I felt anything at this point except a need to leave this place as I put on my boots.

"I'm your superior. You will refer to me as 22." 22 took control of the sitauton as the silence dragged on. I simply nodded when I looked up from the boots I'd put on as well. I looked like a smaller copy of this man named 22.

"Why is your name 22?" I raised a brow, looking at him.

"Because I'm the 22nd subject and I survived." He deadpanned, looking at me as though this really should have been obvious by association.

"Right." I mumbled, looking back at the boots again.

"What was your name before this?" I asked quietly as I took into account that I was 46...that meant that there were over 20 others left that possibly survived. Does that mean I almost died? Did I die? Who am I anymore? Was I still the Cassandra Piety that left Texas however long ago?

"Forget anything you knew before this. Forget your name. Your parents, forget the fucking teddy bear you had when you were 3." 22 took a few steps closer to me, grabbing a fistful of my tank to make his point. His voice was sharp and harsh sounding in my face. His eyes meant this business was serious and I'd either adapt or I'd be left behind which seemed to mean killed off in this place.


	3. Mission Impossible

I didn't realise how much I hated running until I got brought here. Every question I had, I ran it off. I did push-ups, pull-ups, combat matches, sit-ups as a punishment. This sucked ass. I asked how this happened, I got to run until dinner time. I asked where my parents were, push-ups and burpees were my new friends for the night. I don't know how long I've been here for.

22 was typically who I trained with in combat, he was faster and stronger than me. He'd been training for a few years and was obviously great at it, no wonder he was the leading officer for the rest of us.

"46. You're up in the ring with 78." 22 yelled from his place above us, overlooking the pit. I nodded, not saying anything as I forced my hands and lungs to heat up while 78 got ready to step up to me. 78 was new, he didn't quite get the memo that it was eat or be eaten here and I couldn't quite find it in my heart to give him a break anymore.

"Begin." 22 called from above as we both stepped in.

I crouched ever so slightly as 78 began circling me, searching for a weak-spot to strike. I stood still, listening to his feet move around me. Left, right. Left, right. Lef-

I swerved my upper-body to the right and pulled his forearm down to meet my knee. I heard a snap and a weight go over my knee cap for just a second. His arm was light for being so large.

A whimper was barely heard over my hard breathing, I blinked and swiped under his legs. 78 came crashing to the floor with me on top of him. Straddling him, I just began pummeling his face and neck. His hands came up to stop me, his torso burned my legs but I didn't care.

I just didn't care anymore. 78 went limp after the fifth hit, his face healed but he wasn't getting back up to fight anymore and I kept hitting him. I watched my fists bounce off his nose and cheeks, cracking them, blood began dripping onto the floor. I continued hitting him, harder this time.

"Submission." 22 called out but I huffed as I got to my feet again. I wanted to go to bed. I wiped snot from my nose on my arm and glanced up to see a man in a lab coat, it was the same man every time I'd trained. He never had a clip board and he never spoke to me but I recognized him from when I'd first woken up.

"Break." 22 announced as he climbed down from his perch. He never spoke much unless he was teaching newbies about the basics of our abilities. The main warning was don't heat up too much, we'd explode. Isn't that fun? You get stressed out and poof, you took out the next 2 blocks and yourself.

I leaned against a wall and watched 78's body be carted off the mats with mild disinterest. A little piece of my heart felt terrible, I was a horrible person. Theres a possibility I literally just made the man brain dead. It was possible despite the little robots that controlled our nervous system, they made us perfect but did nothing to preserve our minds.

I'd forgotten when I was born and where I'd grown up after my first fight with 22. These days, I forgot a little more about what the outside was like. What the wind felt like on my face, how cold snow was when you had a snowball fight, the little things.

"46, was it?" I turned my head away from the now empty place in the mats to see the labrat had actually decided to speak to me today.

"It is." I nodded, look back at his eyes. Brown. How boring.

"You were impressive on the mat today." I glanced down to see his name tag,  _Dwyane Bryson_. He had a name. He was a person. I used to be a person. I used to be Cassandra Piety.

"Thank you, sir." I bowed my head for a quick second then looked back up to his eyes, waiting.

"I...don't know if you remember me but I believe we met on both of our first days." He chuckled lightly, rubbing the back of his head. I raised a brow at that. It's great that this was a job for him but...I didn't want this.

"I just wanted to say that...well. You've definitely improved from last year." He nodded in a small, shy, smile. I nodded back, a dead stare with little expression. I felt a hand slide onto my shoulder, gripping it roughly as a sign to stop socialising with the higher-ups. We had to be a team and the team fell apart as soon as it seemed like someone got preferential treatment.

"Dr Bryson. I see you've finally got the chance to speak to 46." 22 spoke in a playfully but his undertone was halfway threatening. The doctor nodded, looking a bit off put.

"Yes. Actually, I was hoping we could borrow her for a bit." Bryson looked nervous as he asked.

"I see...how about you wait until after her training is complete? She's got a big mission coming up." 22 stated this as though it was a question but we all knew there wasn't any room for a discussion. 22 had little patience for any negotiating.

"Oh...of course." Dr Bryson nodded quickly, stepping back to keep a safe distance away from the mats. I wanted to ask what my mission was but elected not too, questions weren't a good idea. Questions got you killed. You're a weapon and guns don't stop to ask why, they just shoot.

I got back to the mat and waited for a new opponent. 22 got into the pit, watching me with a small smile. Great. Just, fucking great. I focused on my extremities, filling my lungs with heat. It would take a minute or two before I'd be able to funnel it out enough to blow fire at him but hopefully I'd last that long.

I took in a deep breath and waited. 22 waited. I pursed my lips, crouching a little lower as he merely stood there. One. Two. Three.

I took off at a dead run attempting to surprise him, it felt like I'd ran straight into a solid branch and knocked myself onto the floor with momentum. My head bounced off the floor, the odd scent of old rubber drifted up from the floor as I tried to roll myself over. One more minute.

He straddled me quickly, rolling me back onto my back. I went to swing but instead I felt my wrist pop out of place with pressure. I gritted my teeth as he swung lightly, treating this as a game. Speed and force made sure my head was whipped around to the left side. That familiar iron taste filled my mouth.

I bucked my hips roughly, trying to get up. Nothing. My head whipped to the right this time, I spat out blood. Looking into his eyes, I smiled at his proximity and breathed as hard as I could.

I was blinded for a moment, red fire shot out from my lips and went straight into his eyes and mouth. He jerked to the side and I bucked again, scrambling to my feet this time. I stood as I breathed heavily and punted his chin as hard as I could after a second, knocking myself off balance and falling to the floor again. Fuck.

I blinked and that was my one mistake. A hand around my throat and a growl to remind me I was not alpha. I would never be alpha. I gasped for breath and tried to hit him in the chest, bucking while I could. I reached for his eyes and pushed in. Inhaling, my head was whipped to the right, a crack and sharp pain signaled my cheek was shattered.

Another hit and my face whipped back around, and another with my face to the right again. I felt his weight lift and hands slip under my neck and knees. I flew for a moment only to land on my stomach as I skid across the floor, trying to get my bearings. It burned my belly and I couldn't stand straight, black boots appeared back in my vision for a moment as my head was jerked up by my hair.

"You'll never win, 46." Crisp words cut through the throbbing and iron aftertaste. I blinked as I felt another weight push into the side of my head, the last thing I saw was the floor coming up to greet me.

* * *

I awoke in a daze, staring at blackness. I couldn't hear anything, I couldn't smell anything outside of my own clothes and the smell of...glue and pine. I furrowed my brows as I reached a hand and touched the blackness.

It was soft. Like velvet...thats weird. I went to sit up and hit my head on the ceiling, it was nailed shut. I'd have to force it open and I didn't see that as apart of whatever plan my superiors had going on right now. I'm relatively sure I'm in a coffin right now. I felt my face and my hair, and ears. Earplugs. I pulled on one slightly, the high pitched whine of a large engine reached my ears. The sound made me cringe as I quickly reinserted the hearing protection.

So what have we learned...me. What was my name again? I think it was 46. We've learned that you're in a velvet box, and you're being transported somewhere. A strand of fear floated it's way through my chest. Why? Where was I being transported? To who? I'd heard of some soldiers being sold off to the highest bidder. Had I been sold off?

It seemed to take years for me to be moved. I was quickly nervous and anxious, 22 would have disciplined me for such emotions. I wasn't supposed to have those. When was the last time I cried? Where am I? I want out of here. I inhaled deeply and released it slowly, I couldn't just fight my way out of this. I couldn't be impulsive.

I took out the plugs but I couldn't hear much of what was going on around me, I wasn't near the motor anymore. There wasn't anything really outside of the sound of wheels rolling under me. I laid here for a while. I heard doors opening, men talking lowly, doors closing. I couldn't recognize any other noises so far. I was just...a package that was being moved to wherever I needed to be.

I got both nervous and excited when I heard nails being pulled out. One after another, my nerves grew and I had to calm myself down out of fear they'd somehow know. Finally, the lid opened.

"46?" I was blinded at first but nodded at whomever had spoken to me. It sounded male. I sat up slowly, blinking repeatedly to see a man with blonde hair and brown eyes again. He looked like maybe he spent too much time in the sun when he was younger.

"Lovely to see you again, Aldrich Killian." He nodded towards me, I did the same as I began to get out of the box I'd been in for who knows how long.

"Again?" I nodded again as I swung myself over the lip of this thing. I looked back to see that it was indeed a coffin. Terrific.

"I don't mean to brag or anything, but...I did have a hand in your recruitment for the cause." He seemed boastful of this. I didn't know what he meant by either thing so I stared at him.

"I was the one that followed you for a few days to see your durability and all. Obviously, I made a great choice." Killian looked proud with his handiwork of sorts.

"Thank you, sir." I didn't really know who this guy was or what the cause even was but it wasn't my place to ask.

"Anyways, you're going to help the world out tomorrow." Killian nodded to himself and looked to our left. "You'll take down Stark Tower tomorrow. Balance the power struggle once more."

I followed his eyes to see what exactly had blinded me when I'd first gotten out. A large tower stood proudly amongst smaller buildings, glittering like a diamond in the rough.

"Of course, sir." I nodded, eyeing the building with a bit of distress building in my heart. So many possibilities for people to be in there. So many deaths. 


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

I sat on the window sill closet to Stark Tower all night, it was nearly completed but I could still see a metal man coming in and out throughout the night. The man was made of red and gold looking pieces from here, he was focused on his tower and uninterested in me. Life was slowly waking up below me, people began to fill out over the city center.

Voices of talking, laughter, crying, all melded into one single unit of chaos matched with the sounds of cars jockeying for a position on the street. It was all chaos. Even the giant screens that covered most of the buildings here, people, music, advertisements flashed non-stop in an array of colours. Foul smells drifted up from streets in clouds.

I wasn't sure how long I'd been in this lifestyle but I didn't recognize many of the faces nor products that were advertised. Even music sounded different now. TV's seemed to produce crystal clear pictures in giant proportions. Life had moved on without me for however many years. I'd left the world in 2009 but...what year was it now?

I breathed heavily on the glass, fogging it up. It was cold here, cold enough that people wore jackets and scarves. I drew a small smiley face on the glass panel, I'd be happy one day. Just like this guy. I sighed to myself and leaned my head back to rest on the hard brick wall behind me. I gazed around at the room I'd been in all night with some longing. It seemed as though Killian lived here, a messy kitchen, used furniture, and a pile of DVD's without any cases.

Life. I wanted one. I'd never have one like this. This was about to be my first  _public_  crime, I could never go back to a normal life. Did I want to do this? It doesn't matter what I want, all that matters is the mission, 46. 46...I had a name at one point or another, didn't I? I'm honestly unsure now. It was foggy in my head, difficult to truly grasp the concept of it all.

Creaking in the apartment reminded me that the man was still here...He must live here. Hatred bubbled in my stomach at the thought of him just living all on his own with no worries about being hurt or killed the next time he stepped out of line. No one to watch him dress, or eat, or breath, or hurt him for talking out of turn. He could do whatever he wanted.

I couldn't. He took that away from me at one point. Having a hand in my "recruitment"...I didn't even remember most of that night. How dare he brag about that?! What the fuck? Who does that? My hands curled into fists, heated and very much craving to hit something.

I had two options now, either I followed through with this and committed. Or...I leave now. I picked my head back up off the wall and glanced down to the street, it was filled with people now and most were smiling. That seemed nice. I want that.

Feet hit the floorboards, making them groan again. Now was the time to make my move. I rose from my position and stood on the window sill, it was half open and that was more than enough for me to make it through.

"46?" Looking over my shoulder, I considered the man that stood there in his sleep clothes and elected that he wasn't worth it.

"I'm resigning." I called resolutely as I took a step forwards and threw myself towards the window. I felt my should hit the glass before it just gave away to shard and a shattering noise in my ears. Air whistled, drowning out the sound of a yell above me. I flipped my body around, making sure to land on my feet properly, it went halfway because I landed in a lunge position and had to balance myself with my fist.

I stood to start running and get out of the street but before I could take a single step to blend in with the shocked people surrounding me, it felt like I was smacked by a car. The force threw me off to land on my ass in a sprawl, I popped my head up in some attempt to figure out what the hell just happened to me when I saw a guy that looked just as panicked as I felt right now.

He was blonde, blue-eyed, and big but he was mumbling something about getting away. His sprawl was much more wide than mine with his legs still entangled with my own from the nice little collision we just had. I struggled to stand up first, getting up slightly before he yanked his legs away, knocking me back over with a grunt.

"Enough!" I grunted as I pushed myself back off the ground and took off, I glanced behind me to see nothing and no one. I guess he'd gone a different way, whatever. I needed space right now anyways. I was abo-wait a god damn second.

I gaped back to my left side to see him running the same speed as me. Thats impossible. No. This is literally impossible for any normal person unless everyone was a super human now? I frowned as he stopped running, I continued on for a whole second until I crashed over the top of a shiny black car, crushing the side of it and moving it slightly to the right.

I collapsed on wet pavement a few feet away thanks to the recoil I'd somehow created with just my own body and speed. Men in black gear came out of no where, familiar black boots invaded my vision and scared me into moving.

"At ease, Soldier." A man spoke over the sound of cars squealing. Gloved hands started towards me and I freaked, I straight up freaked out and began crawling away as fast as I could.

"Get AWAY!" I was genuinely screaming as I stumbled, hitting someone's feet and legs.

"Back off, back off." The same man spoke now as I felt panic run through my veins, they'd finally found me and it took all of 30 seconds. How did this happen? I heaved, feeling heat build all over my body.

"We have a rogue female, enhanced." I focused on a taller man with an eye patch and a bald head, he wore a long leather jacket in black and he was speaking into a large radio thing.

"Ma'am. We're not going to hurt you." The man spoke calmly, looking between me and something behind me.

"What kind of an operation is this?" A deeper voice, questioned heatedly. I gazed up to see the same big blonde guy looking down at me, confused but angry looking. I immediately pushed away from him, standing shakily, I was incredibly warm now and it kind of worried me but I was freaking the fuck out. Where was this? What is this? Who are these people?

"Look, I'm sorry about the show earlier and I have no idea where the hell she came from," The eyepatch man waved towards me now in some kind of exasperation, "but we wanted to break it to you slowly, Cap." He finished.

"Break what?" The blonde looked even more confused now.

"You've been asleep Cap...for almost 70 years now." The eye-patch regarded Blondie with some hesitance but his eye darted back to me every once in a while. Blondie went silent for a beat, staring at all the different screens and people who had gathered around us now.

"Just let me go, and we can all forget about this." I called from the side, trying to speak to who I figured was in charge...eyepatch.

"I can't do that, Miss. What's your name?" He raised a brow at me.

"46." I pursed my lips, I still couldn't recall any other name.

"Whats your actual name?" Now he seemed frustrated as he glanced back towards Blondie who looked to be having a mental breakdown over there.

"I don't know!" I snapped, crossing my arms over my chest in a huff. They were glowing red and orange where clothes didn't cover my limbs, were they not apart of the group I was apart of?

"Who are you people?" I grunted, glaring at one man who took a step closer to me in tactical gear.

"We're Shield. We're here to help." He announced, regarding me with a heavy look. I couldn't really tell what he was thinking right now. It was frustrating.


	5. Chapter 5

"Hi there." A redhead situated herself across the metal table from me. She looked pleasant enough but I still didn't trust her, there was something off about this woman...something hidden.

"Hi." I glanced at her then looked away again towards a solid grey wall. I was in an odd interrogation room of sorts, holding maybe.

"I'm Natasha. You are?" She raised a brow as she introduced herself to me, like I was supposed to get what she was meaning via the expression.

"I already told your boss, I'm 46." I sighed, deciding to stare back at the wall for a moment longer. This was boring but at least it was safe, right?

"Right...our files, however, say your name isn't 46." She chuckled lightly, pulling out a manila folder from her lap and putting it on the desk.

"What do you mean?" I checked as I stared at her, a bit confused.

"See,  _they_  say that your name is Cassandra Piety." Natasha had my wholehearted attention from that point on, my eyes were glued to the little folder in front of us.

"You were brought in for a car wreck in '09 and disappeared from the Houston Methodist Hospital. You've been listed as missing for the last three years." Natasha's voice was softer now, she watched my expression as she brought up each point and showed me where the records were as proof.

"Is there anything you can tell us about where you've been for the last few years?" She pushed the file towards me, leaning back in her own chair with her arms crossed over her chest. She looked relatively at ease with this, on the other hand my fear was bubbling out of every crack and seam in my brain. I felt like I could melt right through the hard metal chair under me right now.

"I um..." I trailed off, staring at the whole 2 pages about me in front of me. A date of birth, place of disappearance, clothing, and previous information like my schooling. I couldn't believe I'd been gone for a whole three years.

"Has it really been 3 years?" I muttered as I flipped over the front page, staring at the single line of information at the top of the second page. Any information could be directed to Houston Police Department...not even a notice of my parents outside of who I was born too.

"Looks like it." She nodded, holding my eyes for a minute.

"I-I've been...I've been somewhere near...something warm. Sunny. A beach was outside." I sat back in my chair, still a bit shocked at the news. "I was...made like this." I held my arms out to her.

"Like what, Miss Piety?" Natasha sat up easily, leaning on her elbows on top of the metal table.

"This." I stared down at my arms, feeling the heat build up in them. Slowly but surely, a deep red glow bloomed into a fiery orange to outline my bones and veins below the skin.

"Is there something you can do with that outside of being a glow stick?" She cracked, giving me a small and sardonic smile. Frustration and a bit of anger blew up inside of me, I didn't  _want_ to be here and have my whole god damn world come down, lady.

"Oh...nothing too special. Just this." I smiled with grace as I rested my hand on the table, watching her jerk back slightly as the metal began to melt.

"I see..." She nodded slowly, watching as my hand just slowly fell through the table, splattering the floor with molten steel.

"Oh. I can also regrow some things but if you cut a single finger off my god damn hand, I'm not going to be happy." I hissed as I glared, crossing my arms over my chest. I decided I didn't particularly trust these people. They reeked of what I'd just literally tried to run away from.

"I think I can speak for us all here at Shield when I say bodily torture of innocents isn't really what we go for." She stood, nodding at me.

"Right." I stared at her, dead in my voice. I'm not so sure if anyone actually strives towards that. People generally thought they were right and innocent and whoever else was the guilty party.

"One last question." She put her hands on top of her chair, pushing it in slowly. It went with an irritating metallic screech as it skid across the smooth floor.

"Yes?" I waited for it.

"What were you doing when we found you with Captain Rodgers?" She waited with an expressionless face, analyzing me.

"I was running from a job I'd been given. I don't know who that is but...I think we were just both running." I finish lamely as I tried to find some kind of symbolism or meaning in what I'd done.

"Your job was?" Natasha was straight to the point but offered little information in doing so. They wanted to know who I was, where I came from, and why. That was all I could figure so far.

"I was supposed to blow up Stark Tower to "re-balance the universe", or something." I used air quotes as I rolled my eyes at it. The more time away I'd had, the better I'd felt about my decision. Things didn't make any sense where I'd been. It was awful.

"Why didn't you finish your job? You're obviously qualified." She raised a brow, actually looking curious this time.

"I guess its because I didn't really want to go ahead and murder a bunch of people that did nothing to me." I stared back at her, feeling like this should have been the obvious answer.

"Thank you for your time and cooperation." She nodded, smiling again as she turned and exited the room. I was left alone again, wondering why I was here and what was going to happen to me next.

I wasn't sure exactly how long it took for the same bald eye-patch wearing man from the square to show up in my little box but he did after a short while. He was smiling now and brought a plate of food, making me feel like I was struggling to keep my balance on an icey surface. I couldn't get a grip of what this whole place's deal was and why I  _had_  to be here. What power did they have?

"Why am I here?" The question slipped out sharply, as I stared at this man while he took a seat in front of me. He slide the plate over in front of me, avoiding the melted portion of the table.

"You're here mainly because you took out a super solider, and an armored vehicle with just little old you..." He was bemused by me apparently, watching me with his chin resting on steepled fingers.

"And?" I raised a brow, motioning with my hands to see what else there was to this.

"You seemed like you could use a hand." He shrugged, still watching my movements.

"And you're just in the business of giving people a hand Mr...?" I trailed off, sarcasm oozing with every word as I got a little more restless about my situation.

"Fury. Nick Fury. I  _am_  in that business Miss Piety, when I want to be. People like you tend to do better when they're working for the government instead of against it." He popped a half smile at me. Great. He thought I was funny.

"So you're here to offer me a job." I snorted, shaking my head as I looked down at the plate in front of me. It looked like roast beer possibly, and some potatoes. I didn't trust them nearly enough to eat their food like this.

"In a way. You won't work immediately, not unless you want too. Instead, I'd want you to go on a retreat of sorts while we figure out who your previous employers were and what they want." He leaned back in the chair, just as calm and collected as Natasha had been.

"And why do you want me?" I narrowed my eyes at him, crossing my arms over my chest in some sort of defense.

"One, I like your spunk and two, you're already trained up." He chuckled as he glanced from the plate in-front of me to my face.

"So you just want another soldier to control." I snorted, shaking my head. "Already been there, did that." I finished with a bit of ferocity in my tone.

"In a way...but I'd rather you just helped me save the world as we know it if the need arrived." He shrugged, still leaned back on his chair.

"Really now?" I continued to shake my head in disbelief at what he was asking me to do.

"The world is about to get a whole lot stranger Miss Piety, and you haven't seen it for the last 3 years. I'd take the time off I could if I were you just to figure out what I wanted when I got back." He stretched lightly, popping his back as he reached his arms towards the ceiling.

I stared at him for a few moments longer, unsure as to what I wanted right now. This felt too good to be true, like there had to be some kind of twist in this...something I couldn't see right now just waiting to reach out and snap my foot up in a trap. I needed to lay low but I didn't have any where to go. I didn't even remember what my parent's names were or where they lived. I couldn't contact them even if I wanted.

"I...I want to go." I pursed my lips, feeling only mild regret for the choice I just made.


End file.
